Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

we are seeds in the clatter of mortality, a gate to the fog ... fierce as a ferret

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the injunction not to taste the fruit arrived from heaven's gate ... now twilight waits for what will come

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Madame Butterfly's faraway sea moves in my ears— the undulating flight of swallows and sparrows

fire, an abstraction... imaginary cover thrown across  the garden  of the real

this child learned the language of birds ... now he can follow the wind with his fingers

tremors from the fissures of my brain ... at the pen’s point do world and spirit wed

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his hand   slips under her dress pushes through the ring of dripping junipers

I began  writing poems on a gray stone bench, nothing was black or broken    and not a leaf fell 

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http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00IFHTY34/ref=kinw_myk_ro_title

Madame Butterfly a far away sea moves in my ears.... vowels rise like balloons about to burst

he can no more  play with fire  and leave unharmed  than I can open doors  and let in rainbows 

how do I know  if a poem has too many  bubbles ... the moon opens her lips  to the rippling sound of water

he knew how to play with fire and leave unharmed . . . I know how to open doors to let in rainbows

we buried the dead with our tools and decorations knew the tides by the signs of the moon... decided together to act together